


What's The Story, Morning Glory?

by WhyIHTS (Kidd_you_not)



Series: What's The Story? [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Anti Sokovia Accords, Bad living conditions, Human rights violations, M/M, No character bashing, Not A Fix-It, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Not Tony Stark Friendly, Past Tony Stark/Steve Rogers - Freeform, Shock Collars, Straightjackets, The Accords were signed and now reveal their true nature, The Raft, The power of the Internet, Tony supports the Accords, there will be no getting back together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:53:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21584860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kidd_you_not/pseuds/WhyIHTS
Summary: The last thing Clint Barton expects to find in his kitchen at four in the morning, right after a guy handing him five million dollars and juggling murder clowns, is an emotional Steve Rogers. Only because, one, he is just never that lucky and two, the Carnival of Crime has learned to leave him the fuck alone.The news Steve brings, however, make him wish for any of the former.
Relationships: Clint Barton & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Series: What's The Story? [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1558282
Comments: 9
Kudos: 60





	What's The Story, Morning Glory?

**Author's Note:**

> I have been wondering about the Accords, ever since they were introduced and subsequently ignored. As we know, they were active, though. So, here's me dealing with the mess the Russos left us.
> 
> I left the rating at T, but if anyone feels like it should be higher, don't hesitate to tell me.

It's almost four in the morning when Clint leaves his bed, gives the grumbling lump still in it a fond glance and goes down to get a bottle of water. Normally, Clint's only awake if he either hasn't gone to bed yet or wakes up because of nightmares, so walking around to just get water is kind of a novelty. He's relaxed and warm, doesn't even think to be wary of possible intruders; Bucky and Nat, because neither of them trusts Clint to put any effort into protecting his apartment, despite years in the intelligence community, have both taken turns fortifying his place. He's bug-proof and his door and windows are rigged six ways to Sunday, but alas, it looks like someone still managed to get inside without setting off any of the alarms.

Clint hasn't even tried to be quiet on his way down the stairs; partially because he knows that Bucky tenses up whenever he hears someone trying to sneak and partially because he can't be expected to have a functioning brain in the middle of the night after just waking up. Steve, though, is still staring at his mug and doesn't lift his head when Clint steps closer. He looks... tired, mostly. He isn't an expert, but an exhausted-looking Captain America lurking in his friends' apartment in the middle of the night is kind of a red flag, right? "Steve?" he asks, "What are you doing here?" The man doesn't lift his head, at first, and Clint is even more concerned than he was a few seconds ago. Then, Steve looks him in the eyes and with dread, Clint realizes that he's been crying. "How long have you been down here?"

Steve shrugs, "Half an hour, maybe?" He seems tense and drawn, his voice scratchy, and Clint knows that prodding for information might not be the best course of action right about now. Instead, he heads to the fridge, pulls it open, shuts it again after three seconds and turns to the coffee machine. "Clint, get a fucking tea or something, no coffee." Whelp, someone's in a mood. He mock-salutes, because he'd rather have his team leader look at him in annoyance than keep that shattered look on his face, and redirects to a cabin he rarely stocks but which still contains a few different cartons of tea. It's quiet again while he gets the water boiler going and, remembering the reason he came down in the first place, he fills a glass in the tap and gulps it down. Damn, he's not good at this. Normally, people go to Sam for their emotions. Normally, Steve talks to Bucky. Wait, that's an idea.

"Do you want me to wake Bucky?"

The other huffs. "He'd only look at me with that 'I told you so' look." And well, now Clint is really curious. He doesn't know about any arguments Steve and Bucky had. Buck usually keeps tight about personal stuff, especially other people's. But this seems really serious. He only hums in response. Maybe Steve will open by himself up if he gives him some time.

Tea in hand, he turns around and leans back against the counter. Steve is sitting on one of the bar stools, not quite facing him, his head down again. Clint waits and almost starts to fidget. Keep a grip on it, Barton, you're a secret agent. Or used to be. It just isn't the same when it's a friend he wants intel from. "Hey, how did you even get inside?" The door was locked after all and he doesn't think Steve even fits through the windows.

"Nat." He smiles, just a little. A tiny hitch. "Nat showed me how to pick advanced locks." Clint laughs.

"Yeah, of course she did. I should have guessed." Not wanting to let the conversation die, however pathetic it is, he adds: "So, how's she doing anyway?" Nat's been working for the reformed SHIELD again, not exactly voluntarily. He knows that she hates it, can see it in her eyes whenever she's at the base. It keeps her away from the compound and the other Avengers a lot, but he thinks that, maybe because of this, she's been more in contact with the team than ever before.  


He himself is taking a break from the spy work that used to take up his life. After finding out that his agency was infested with Hydra, he's kind of lost all motivation to keep going. He knows Natasha feels the same, but she's agreed to work under Maria Hill again and he can't imagine anyone who'd be a better choice for rebuilding the crumbled SHIELD.

Clint sits down across from Steve, who answers, "She's doing well, as far as I can tell. Not that I'd really know if she's lying to me." Clint grimaces.

"You should give yourself more credit, man," he says, "Natasha trusts and likes you. I should know. She's way more open with you than, say, with Tony." Steve flinches. Oh boy. He thinks he knows what's wrong. Steve and Tony have had many fights recently, some worse than others, but all serious. They had always been the couple that could ruin any dinner party with an escalating squabble and they have broken up more times than Clint bothers to remember. But in the last year, ever since the Accords passed, it's been steadily getting worse. Or maybe it started with Ultron. Worse enough to make not only Clint and Bucky flee the compound for extended periods of time. They were all sure that the Accords would put an end to their tumultuous relationship, but to the surprise of the Avengers and the general public, Steve gave in last minute and signed. Scott Lang, even though he wasn't required to sign, immediately resigned from the Avengers, and so had Spiderman. The kid has always been notorious for keeping his identity private and Clint can respect that. He just prays that SHIELD won't get their hands on him. He's noticed, though, that Spiderman seems to appear to be out super-heroing less and less, so he might not be the only one worried.

The kitchen has fallen silent again and this time, Clint doesn't know how to change that. He's never pretended to understand how Steve and Tony worked, only that they have, for a while. That, however, has been a long time ago, back when they started. The highest highs, the lowest lows, except that the lows are much, much more prevalent these days. He and Bucky have been talking, loudly wondering why they still tried to keep going, when it was obvious how much it hurt both of them. This isn't the first time Steve has spent the night at their apartment, after all. Except, this is different.

He sits and sips his tea. Hmm, fruity. He can hear the clock Bucky's hung up above the fridge tick. One minute, two go by while he sips and Steve stares down into his mug. Then, finally, the supersoldier opens his mouth. "It's over, this time." Clint starts. They may have broken up before, but there had always been a simmer of hope underneath the hurt. Steve has never sounded quite so final. Before he can answer, Steve hurries, "I know. We've been through bad times before, but this time... this time, it's not fixable." Clint's heart breaks a little at Steve's tone, when his voice catches on the last word.

"What happened?" he asks gently.

Steve lowers his head again, then takes a deep breath, straightens up and finally looks Clint in the eyes. "It's about the Accords. We never should have signed them, Clint. I shouldn't have caved and I shouldn't have asked you to join me." Clint knows he'd only asked to keep them from getting into trouble with the UN, but he also knows that Steve signing made Bucky and Wanda, being superpowered, sign as well. He knew they could have handled the trouble if they decided against it, but he was relieved none the less. He stays quiet, though, wanting to let Steve pour his heart out without interrupting. It seems to work, and Steve continues.

"The Accords are wrong and they were wrong when we were handed them. The UN made some very dubious choices if you ask me, and the most dubious was to make Thaddeus Ross enforce them. You know what he did to Bruce." And Lord, does he know. Back when the guy had shown up at the compound, it had taken Bucky and Nat to keep him from smashing the man's face into the conference table on principle alone, let alone for the bullshit he'd served them that day. "I wish I could go back and tear Ross a new one for daring to stand there and lecture us about accountability." He balls his fists tightly.

Clint's very well versed in recognizing when Steve is about to go into rant mode, so he stops him right there. "But why now? What sparked this?" And he raises his hands and gestures at their surrounding, indicating the whole situation.

Steve's fallen silent again. Then, he pulls out his phone and shows it to Clint, without a word. Clint frowns but looks at the screen. It's a video. Blurry, too. He frowns harder, looks up at his friend, who nods at the screen. So Clint looks back and freezes. "Wait," he mumbles, takes the phone from Steve's hand and rewinds. This time, he gives it his full attention.

The camera's shaky and from what it looks like, moving rapidly. From what he can tell, it must be pinned to a person's lapel, a classic in the spy movies. This person hasn't undergone espionage training and the quality isn't good enough to come from a high-tech, expensive standard cam, that's for sure. He watches as the image stabilizes and now he can see a hallway. He doesn't recognize it, for what it's forth. There is a tall, grey-haired man walking ahead in the corner of the video, presumably leading a group of five people, as far as he can tell from the audible footsteps. The surroundings are made of steel, like the Helicarrier, lit with cold light and bare. Then a voice sounds. The low quality of whatever mic this person had on themselves, makes the words hard to understand.

 _As you know, general, we are very concerned about pooling hundreds of dangerous mutants in one place,_ a voice says. It's loud and close to the mic, so it might be the carrier's. _Mutants_ , Clint mouths.

 _You can tell the committee not to worry,_ someone answers. He knows that voice. The camera turns a little towards the man walking ahead, who's turned his head. Ross. Dread pools low in Clint's gut.

Ross continues, _This is the most secure facility in the whole world. It's impossible to get into and even more impossible to get out of. You've seen the location, Mrs. Anders. The waters around the Raft are heavily patrolled and even if someone managed to escape and not be caught, he'd have to swim hundreds of miles to get to land. As of yet, we do not have a mutant capable of such a feat._ They have reached the door at the end of the hall. Ross steps through first and holds it open for the group. The woman carrying the bugs goes first, effectively given them a clear shot of the room beyond. It's dim, only lit by overhead light hanging from a high ceiling. The room's circular with a control desk in the center but Clint can see glass partitions in the walls, each dividing a smaller room from the main one. Cells, he thinks darkly. They, too, contain one singular, especially dim light source. He can't make out anything beyond that, not with the less than optimal video quality.

She turns around, facing the group. Clint doesn't recognize any of the faces, but he's reasonably sure to have seen most of them before. He was right before; the rest of the group are three men, all wearing tailored suits and cool expressions. Before any of them can open their mouths, the mole speaks again: _You have invited us here to show us around your prison. Let's not waste time beating around the bush._ A risky move, in his opinion.

Ross gives her a sharp look, but complies. _I'm aware. Please, step closer to the glass._ He steps towards the controls and pushes a button. The camera swerves and focuses back on a now bright room beyond a glass wall. It's tiny, only containing a bed and a metal toilet. There's a human shape on the bed. Clint's rubbing his hand over his lips anxiously. He knows that this is huge. It can't end well.

 _On this level, we only keep the most dangerous of the inmates. Most of these cells are empty, but this one,_ Ross says, _can control the temperature of objects when he touches them._

 _That doesn't sound too dangerous,_ a yet unheard voice interrupts. The camera doesn't turn to face the speaker.

 _He resisted arrest and proved resourceful. He managed to land a few members of the SWAT team in the hospital by alternately burning and freezing their surroundings and gear. He deserves to be here._ Footsteps again, then Ross steps back into view. He's carrying a small device in one hand. A remote, maybe. _They can't hear us unless I want them to. They can't see past the glass either_. Clint shudders. That means complete isolation. Ross lifts the device to his mouth. _Inmate, get up and face the glass._ The shape on the bed doesn't move. There's no blanket, Clint realizes. He feels sick.

 _Inmate, you will comply or face the consequences._ Again, nothing. Then, the figure jerks suddenly and tumbles off the bed, twitching. He's seen that particular movement before, has made it more often than he'd like to admit. The man on the floor gets up and slowly turns towards the glass. He doesn't look at anyone in particular, probably can't see anything beyond the partition and when he turns his head, sure enough, there it is. A shock collar. Clint pauses the video and looks up. Sometime during the last minute, Steve has put his head in his hands. Clint wants to ask so many questions, maybe go throw up afterward, but he continues watching.

The camera steps closer, the man's face becomes clear enough to make out some features. He's staring into the distance, his face blank and eyes dead. There are dark circles under them and his skin looks exceptionally pallid. The woman asks: _Do they ever leave their cells?_

 _I can assure you, as little as possible. They have their meals together, at least those who are not deemed too likely to revolt, and they get an hour of recreational activities to prevent them from going insane. Or at least, more insane than they already are. They are always under constant supervision, the risk of them breaking out is as minimal as possible._ Clint wants to put the phone away, throw it against the wall or go and find Ross. He wants to hurt the man. That fucking bastard. That _fucking_ bastard.

Again, the woman speaks up before anyone else can. _And what do you do with them? Surely, they could be useful._ Clint's skin crawls.

A tiny pause. _We are not allowed to send them into combat, as they are not to be trusted. Also, you know that we already have enhanced teams for this specific purpose and many more are still in training. You have, as I believe, already been updated with the reports of the first few missions._ The Accords, the _fucking_ Accords. They must have pulled civilians in, and without any of the Avengers noticing. Back when they had signed, they'd been assured that this function was only a precaution for extraordinarily dire times. Clint may not be up to date on many things, but he knows without a doubt, that the current times were far from dire enough to warrant forcing civilians into combat. _As for uses outside of combat, there are several ideas and proposals I am fond of, but as of now, I am not required to disclose them._ Clint freezes again. His breathing speeds up even more. He couldn't-. Surely he didn't-. But it was Ross, wasn't it? He knows what he has done and tried to do to Bruce. Getting to oversee a prison housing hundreds of enhanced, of _superhumans..._ He must be in his own personal, sick and twisted heaven. He's just glad that Bruce isn't here, no matter how much they miss him.

What's human experimentation when you're already gleefully running one big, shiny human rights violation.

He has to rewind the video again, having missed the last twenty seconds. Low conversations have started, the mic not advanced enough to pick them up. He absentmindedly wonders. How did someone, not a professional, get a camera and microphone into presumably the most highly secured facility on the planet? If the sensors haven't picked it up, it must be a model Clint doesn't know. A mole in the staff is possible, but not likely. He could be wrong though, since seeing things like this on a daily basis could easily impact someone's decision-making and prompt them to change sides, commit treason. A few seconds go by and again, Clint is anxiously rubbing his lips, feeling the stubble. Then, the woman turns towards Ross.

 _Who is the most dangerous inmate you have?_ she demands. Clint can tell from the expression on his face that Ross is not at all alright with being questioned and prodded as much as she has done so far, but he obligingly indicates towards a space behind the camera, furthest from the door. She turns and walks straight towards the cell, which lights up a second later. She stops dead in her tracks. Clint himself is unable to keep looking, has to pause and turn his face to the ceiling, his jaw clenched. "How did this happen, Steve?" There is no answer.

On the paused screen, he can still make out the cell and its interior. It's as blank as the first one, but what's so, so horrible about it, is the girl lying on the floor, curled up, a straightjacket restricting her arms and torso. She can't be much older than fifteen. Fuck. She, too, has a collar around her neck. Her brown hair is greasy and unevenly chopped, her skin is clammy, even paler than the other guy's. Her eyes are half-lidded, likely not seeing anything.

He takes a minute to compose himself, then hits 'play'. The woman steps closer and he can make out a faint trembling. Me too, buddy, he thinks, me too. _What did she do?_ she asks.

 _This one evaded capture for weeks and killed seven men when they tried to bring her in. It was quite a spectacle, very hard to cover up._ The fucking asshole sounds so smug, Clint wants to send an arrow where it hurts the most. Or rip that mustache clean off, that would be nice. He clenches his fists instead. _But the more important bit is what she can do. Telekinesis. She's displayed a truly horrifying amount of control over her abilities. Her telepathy is not quite as strong, but I believe she is still growing into her powers. We are very lucky to have caught her before she could severely threaten the people._ He briefly wonders where she's from, but knows it doesn't really matter. After the Accords, all enhanced are in the same position, at least in the countries that signed them. This could be Wanda, he thinks and a lump shapes in his throat. He has to swallow thickly.

The video cuts off. He briefly thinks it's over, but a second later it's back, having switched from the cell to another hallway. Again, Ross is walking in front. Another cut and she's outside, alone, and getting into a Quinjet. He hears the doors close as the woman makes her way to the pilot. They seem to be the only people on board, which seems weird for a delegation. The pilot steers the Quinjet into take-off and a few minutes later, he puts it into autopilot, turns around and stares straight into the camera. He looks young, Clint absentmindedly notices. Brown hair, a handsome face and strange sunglasses that hide his eyes. His hard, cold expression is giving Clint chills. Then, the man looks at his likely partner and the camera shakes. At first, he thinks that she's removing it to turn it off, but when the vision re-focuses, it's a woman's face he sees. She looks plain, in her mid-forties with black hair held back in a tight bun. He can identify several emotions on her face, none of them good. Sadness, anger, grief, hate, it all blurs together. Then, blackness. The video is finally over.

There is silence in the kitchen, for a few minutes. Finally, Clint clears his throat and makes himself ask: "Where did this come from?" He has to rely on his extensive experience of staying level-headed in stressful situations. Compartmentalize, come on. You can do this, he tells himself.

Steve is still, his shoulders drawn and his hands gripping his short, blond hair tightly, elbows on the counter. Did he even move during the last minutes? Then finally, with a rough voice, he answers: "It was uploaded around midnight. Tony thinks it might not even be older than twelve hours. And it's not a fake." Clint's eyebrows shoot up. He'd already been in bed by then, choosing to go for one good night of sleep to balance out his otherwise shitty schedule.

"Are you telling me that the general public has access to this? That some have seen it already?" Steve nods.

"We checked." He straightens and puts his hands on the counter. "It's been seen, shared and re-uploaded countless times. SHIELD has tried to take it down, but it spread too fast." He sounds tired and Clint abruptly remembers the time.

"Hey," he tries gently, "you wanna sleep on the couch? I'll bring you a pillow and blanket."

But Steve just grimaces and shakes his head. "I'd have to get up in an hour. Besides, I won't be able to sleep anyway." He doesn't say anything, but Clint knows he's the same. No way he can close his eyes and not see the face of that poor girl. One more thing to add to the nightmares, he thinks morosely.

He gets up. "Well, this calls for coffee, then." And this time, Steve doesn't protest, not even when Clint puts down another mug in front of him. He briefly wonders why Steve had kept him from making coffee when he stepped into the kitchen in the first place. The guy should have known that none of them will be going back to sleep tonight. However, he tries to not get into the heads of people in especially distressed states of emotion, so he drops that line of thought. He still wonders why Steve is here, though.

"What made you fight?" he asks. At Steve's confused glance, he clarifies: "You and Tony." Another grimace, a sigh. Again, he puts his face in his hands. 

After a second, he rubs it and folds his hands in front of him again. "Tony doesn't think this is wrong." Clint chokes on nothing. He knew that Tony is still in favor of the Accords, has campaigned for them when they were implemented, but after seeing this video? He could name more than five human rights violations on top of his head alone. Committed by the UN, to boot.

"What?" he asks eloquently. "How?"

"He agrees that what's happening is awful, but he thinks it's necessary. To protect the world." Clint refrains from asking 'Protect from what?', but only so. He puts his coffee down, stands up and pours the by now cold tea into the sink.

"I really think we should go wake Bucky, now."

"Wake me for what?" Clint curses and almost drops the mug still in his hand. He and Steve both whip around at the same time. Jesus, sometimes he forgets how quiet the guy can be. Bucky's standing there, at the foot of the staircase, dressed in his boxers and one of Clint's shirts. Normally, the sight would make his insides go all funny, but not tonight. He mourns it, a little. His boyfriend steps into the light of the kitchen lamp and sits down beside Steve. It takes an elbow and a shoulder bump for the blond to turn and finally look at his best friend. Whatever Bucky sees, it makes the expression on his face go from curious to dead serious in a heartbeat.

"Tony and I broke up for good this time," Steve finally rasps out. Clint turns around and busies himself with making another cup of coffee, trying to give them the illusion of privacy. Behind him, he can hear the low murmur of their conversation, but doesn't try to listen. His aids aren't all that good at picking out the low sounds anyway. When he turns, full mug in hand, the supersoldiers have fallen silent again. He slides the mug over to Bucky, who catches it in his metal hand. "Thanks," he gets in return.

"Did we wake you up?" Bucky looks up at him.

"You didn't come back to bed," he murmurs. Ahh, there's that funny feeling he's been missing. He smiles at Bucky faintly and reaches over the counter to brush his fingertips over the other man's cheekbones. Bucky's eyes flutter shut. After a second, Clint realizes that PDA in front of a guy going through a bad breakup might not be the sensible thing to do and he pulls back. And sure enough, when he looks at Steve, the other is staring into his half-empty mug as if it contained the solution to all his problems. He exchanges a look with Bucky. Looks like none of them are getting any sleep any time soon.

"Did he tell you about the video?"

Bucky frowns. "What video?" In answer, hands him the phone, which is still showing the footage, and hits play again. He watches as the crease between Bucky's eyebrows grows and grows until it completely smoothes out. He's not surprised; whenever Bucky feels emotionally overwhelmed, he puts on the blankest facade possible to a human being. Steve meanwhile, seems to still be doing his best at crawling into his mug, gripping it tightly. Clint is distantly worried about the thing shattering between Steve's meaty hands, but he discards it. They really have bigger problems.

When it's over, Bucky hands the phone back to Steve, who puts it in his pocket. They'll be watching that nightmare come to life many more times, Clint's sure, but for now he wants it gone. Again, the silence stretches, until Bucky breaks it. "I can see how that put a strain on your relationship." Steve snorts and Clint watches Bucky fiddle with his mug. "No really. You've always had different stances on the Accords and your relationship has suffered from it. But I won't lie." He turns to Steve and looks him dead in the eye. "I'm glad it's over. Maybe now you both can get some peace." Bucky looks entirely too calm to know about Tony's thoughts on the topic.

"Steve, tell him about what Tony said." Bucky looks at him questioningly.

Steve sighs again and indicates towards the phone in his pocket. "Tony said he doesn't like this, but that it's necessary." Clint's pretty sure Bucky's look could freeze an erupting volcano.

"Necessary, huh? I'm sure Ross would agree." Steve flinches, hard. The counter creaks under the metal hand. Not the first dent, not the last, Clint thinks and refills his coffee.

"That's not the same. You know Ross is in it for his own profit," Steve insists

"No, I know," Bucky responds cooly, "I, too, think that Stark genuinely thinks he knows what's best for the world." Clint winces. The guy isn't wrong. Tony has always been very firm in the belief that he knows the answers to all questions. It's not the first time that attitude led to trouble. He thinks about Wanda and wonders whether she's already seen the video, or whether she's sleeping peacefully, unaware of what's to come. 

Abruptly, Bucky stands up and heads to the coffee machine, filling his still half-full cup. He stares at it for a few seconds while Clint and Steve look at each other worriedly. Then, Bucky slams his mug down, coating the counter with hot coffee, and hisses: "For fuck's sake, Stevie!"

"I know."

"Oh, do you?" Man, he's seething. Bucky tends to meet problems with an extraordinary amount of anger, Clint notices distractedly. Seeing people locked in and restrained, and hearing about others being used for their abilities must be hard on him.

"Yes, Buck, I _know_."

But Bucky isn't done yet. "We should have fucking done something, before. We should have said "No, fuck you" as soon as that bag of horse shit walked into our door. We should have known that it never stops at registration!" Clint grips his own cup harder. Bucky's right. Historically, registration leads to things much worse.

"We thought we were better than this," Steve muses.

"Because we're the West, right? Other nations commit atrocities, but not us, right?! Fuck!" The mug shatters in Bucky's hand, spreading more coffee and shards of ceramic over the floor.

"Yeah," Steve mumbles. Clint puts his own mug down and goes to get the broom and a towel. When he returns, Buck seems to have calmed down a little. He hands the broom over and sits down on the stool next to Steve, facing him.

"You look very calm," he says, "considering the situation." Steve snorts.

"I've raged. You just weren't there to see it." Oh, yeah, Tony. "We fought for hours, Clint. No matter what you say, I've probably already yelled it at his face tonight."

Bucky, based on the look on his face, seems to take that as a challenge. Before he can open his mouth, though, Clint gives him a sharp look and replies: "We don't have to talk about Tony if you don't want to. We can do than another time. I think other stuff is more important right now." Bucky, done with the clean-up, slumps and nods. Good. They really need to keep their heads clear.

Steve grits his teeth and puts his usual game face on. He straightens from his slump over the table and finally faces them head-on. "Okay," he starts, "what do we do now?" They exchange glances until Bucky replies.

"Well, we're sure as hell not going to take any more orders from the UN. They can go fuck themselves." Clint nods.

"That means breaking the Accords. We'll act against the law. We might become criminals." Steve looks at them intently.

Clint clears his throat. "We could do nothing for a bit." At their incredulous looks, he shrugs. "We have little to no intel. We need to regroup, talk to the other Avengers as well as Hill. I, for one, really want to know what Natasha knows." Realization crosses their faces. Bucky looks down and curses. "Also, we might have to wait to see the public opinion on this one."

"We definitely can't let the government send us out anymore," Bucky insists.

Steve nods. "I can tell them that we're doing an extended training exercise. No missions and we get a few weeks away from the public." Clint hums.

"Apropos becoming criminals. Has anyone been in contact with Scott lately?" He hasn't heard from Ant-Man since the Accords were implemented and in light of recent revelations, the man could be in trouble.

Bucky looks at him questioningly. "Scott isn't superhuman." Steve's eyes light up and he groans.

"No, he's not, but his suit is something the government might want to get their hands on. Remember how they tried to get Tony's tech?" Clint suppresses a shudder at the mental image. The Ant-Man suit in the hands of the wrong people could wreak absolute havoc upon the world.

"Spiderman, too," he adds, "he must have been evading capture for a while now. How has no one found his secret identity yet?"

Steve gives him a small smile. "The kid's good. He's smart and builds his own tech. If anyone can evade detection by sheer resourcefulness, it's him. Besides, they might not be confident enough to go after New York's most beloved vigilante yet, or else they would just have dropped everything they had on him already." He's probably right.

"We should still check up on him." Steve nods.

"I can do that," Clint volunteers, "Queens isn't all that far away from here." He grins broadly. "We even end up in the same dumpster, sometimes." The supersoldiers groan and Bucky gives him a despairing look. Whatever, the guy knew what he signed up for when they started dating. "I'll contact Nat, call her back to the compound. She'll need to take a leave of absence as well."

The others hesitate. Then, softly, Bucky says, "She's working for SHIELD, Clint. She might already be in on it."

Clint throws him a dirty look. "Don't ever say that to her face if you want to keep your balls." He grimaces. "She hates her job, I know it. And now I'm sure I also know why." They both nod.

Bucky turns to Steve, "Have you heard from Bruce or Thor?"

The other shakes his head. "They're still on Asgard." None of them seem to be looking forward to their reactions. Thor's bellow of rage or a code green wouldn't even be the worst-case scenario. Suddenly, Steve hesitates again, fiddling with his hands.

"What do we do if some of the Avengers don't agree with us?" Clint says nothing. What could they do? He didn't want to imagine. Last time the Avengers were divided, before they signed the Accords, it almost came to blows, almost tore the team apart.

Bucky steps around the counter, reaches out and puts his hand on Steve's neck. "You already know, Stevie," he says quietly, "we can't work against the Accords with people who support them. Besides, the possibility of us becoming fugitives still exists." He lets go and sits on Steve's other side. "Also, who wouldn't disagree with the UN after watching that video. Besides Stark, of course," he sneers. Man, Bucky really needed to let off some steam. He's always been lowkey against Tony, but up until now, Clint had thought it was because of his difficult relationship with Steve. Bucky had always preferred to keep his distance whenever Tony was in the room and had often opted out of team activities that would force them together. Clint himself normally prefers to just let his mind wander whenever the guy opens his mouth.

Steve looks shattered again, so Clint hastily says, "We can definitely count on Sam and Wanda, no doubt." The others nod their agreement. "I don't know about Vision, the guy can be a bit utilitarian at times. And I'm not sure about Rhodey." He genuinely doesn't know the guy all that well. Between Clint not living at the compound and Rhodey still working for the military, there simply haven't been many bonding opportunities. But Cap shakes his head.

"I'm pretty sure if we show him the video, he'll be just as angry about this as everyone else. He's military after all. He'll understand the wrongness of forcing civilians into combat better than most of us."

"So we have to make sure everyone sees it," Bucky adds," so we're all on the same page." Clint gets up to get the left-overs from yesterday's dinner out of the fridge. All that strategizing makes him hungry. He wordlessly offers the cold pizza to his teammates, but they both pull faces and decline. He shrugs and takes a hefty bite.

"So," he starts with a full mouth, "how about we call a meeting?"

Steve hums. "Today, maybe in a couple of hours. So no one can be fed any false information the government must be spreading right about now." He doesn't say it, but they all know that the government and the UN might not be the only ones spreading false intel. Tony had always been particularly good at PR work, after all. He doesn't want to think about going up against a friend and teammate, but here they are.

"Sounds like a plan." Bucky claps his hands and gets up. "Anyone want some breakfast?" Clint, still with a half-eaten slice of pizza in his hands, lights up. "Except you, you pig." He slumps.

"Aww, don't be like that. I love your eggs."

"Moving on," Steve butts in as Bucky gets the stove going, "we still need to talk about the video." Clint's stomach sinks and he can see Bucky's face closing off again.

"I'm talking about the woman and the pilot. Did any of you recognize their faces?" They shake their heads.

"Haven't you tried running them through face recognition?" Bucky frowns.

"Tony has. The woman is an official from France and was there to represent the UN committee responsible for handling the Accords and whoever has signed them, but she's not the problem. The program had trouble making out any features on the guy."

"What?" Clint asks confusedly.

"It's like that facepaint that can trick cameras into thinking you don't have a face, just that he's not wearing any." Steve shoves a hand through his hair in frustration. Clint finishes his pizza and leans his elbows on the counter, thinking.

Then, he says, "Remember the mask Nat wore on the Helicarrier when she disguised herself as one of the hostages to apprehend Pierce." Bucky, next to him at the stove, flinches. Damn, he really doesn't want to drag this back up, but he kind of has to.

"That mask didn't protect from face recognition, though," Steve frowns.

"No, but if you can put a mask on your face that changes all your features and neatly disguises you as someone else, how unlikely does a mask fooling cameras really sound? After all, just because neither SHIELD nor Tony has built it, doesn't mean it's impossible."

"They must have someone build their tech, someone not on our radar. I haven't heard of bugs getting through the world's best scanners either," Bucky muses.

Steve inclines his head in agreement, then frowns again, "And where the hell did they get a Quinjet from?"

Clint snorts, hungrily eying the scrambled eggs still in the pan. "No idea. Could have been when SHIELD fell and Hydra took off with our stuff. Black market, auctions, there are many options. It also means that they must have funds."

Bucky wordlessly agreed and finally put their plates down in front of them, then went to start the coffee machine again. "They'll have the whole planet hunting their asses after this stunt. Can't say I'm not thankful, though."

Steve and Clint both hum. They don't talk much during breakfast, but as soon as he's done eating, Cap puts his fork down and asks: "What do you think the UN's gonna do?"

"Deny the video's authenticity. If the public doesn't believe it and the backlash gets to be too much, leave the sinking ship. Say they didn't know, look for a scapegoat. I hope it'll be Ross," Bucky smirked. 

Steve looks at the clock. "It's half past six, so it's late enough to call a meeting." Jesus, Steve was the only guy Clint knew that thought of 6:30 am as late. He watched as the other got up, put his plate and mug in the sink and headed for the door. They follow.

He hesitates at the threshold, then turns and looks each of them firmly in the eyes. "If this goes sideways, I want you to know how thankful I am for you having my back." Bucky huffs.

"Don't worry, Cap," Clint grins, "We're right behind you on this." 

**Author's Note:**

> I am currently planning to have two sequels branch from this, one standard, the other an AU of my AU. There will be wildly different dynamics with the first one including ships and the second be a much longer fic that will be as close to MCU canon as I can make it. Not Clint though, because Marvel can pry Fraction's Hawkeye out of my cold, dead hands. So, if you want updates on my next projects, you can visit me on tumblr under kidd-you-not.  
> Be warned though, me making the second as close to canon as possible means there will be little to no shipping, so no WinterHawk, folks. I plan, however, to put Bucky, Peter, Thor and Bruce more in the foreground because I hate that they had little to no voice in Civil War and include some changes of perspective.
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed reading this, it's a little experimental. I put in a lot of strategy and analysis talk, I just realized, probably because the actual movies have so very little. Here's to hoping I actually have the guts to go on.


End file.
